


Straight For The Knockout

by YaelaTheWordsmith



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Asahi falls so hard for spunky fighter Yachi, Brief Sexism and Transphobia, F/M, Fighter Azumane, Fighter Yachi, Getting Together, MMA AU, Manager Kiyoko, Manager Suga, Raging feminist Asahi Azumane, listen if you're any kind of right wing this fic ain't for you, rated for violence and language, trigger warning for fight scenes and brief description of wounds, watch me try to prove these two can be BAMF af and also nervous softies at the same time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaelaTheWordsmith/pseuds/YaelaTheWordsmith
Summary: So. There are three knockouts in this story, and none of them happen in the fight cage. The first is when rising MMA star Azumane Asahi realizes just how tenacious and courageous newcomer Yachi Hitoka is. The second is when Yachi realizes that Azumane is the kindest and most principled fighter she's ever met.And the third is when Asahi finds out exactly how pretty she is standing on the pavement outside a convenience store, smiling at him under fluorescent streetlights.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Yachi Hitoka, Shimizu Kiyoko & Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 36
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hi so this is me trying to sail the AsaYachi ship all on my own :) and also make them badass as fuck because they're very strong and very cool ok guys they're not just stammering messes
> 
> Please note that a significant part of the first chapter has them fighting as well as descriptions of bruises/pain, so if you're uncomfortable with that you should avoid this fic. There will also be sexist and transphobic comments in the second chapter (that were unfortunately practically lifted right from the comments section of actual male vs. female fight videos on YouTube) so please be warned about those as well.
> 
> A lot of inspiration for the fight as well as Yachi's fighter look came from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=838U5OHXv8E) compilation of wins by Rika 'Tinydoll' Ishige. You can skip to 8:30 to see her use an arm bar and 15:30 to see her use a rear naked choke (as both holds are mentioned in the fic and it might help if you knew what they looked like beforehand).
> 
> Finally, a reference table for MMA weight classes -  
> Atomweight (women) - up to 105 lb (47.6 kg)  
> Strawweight (women) - between 105 and 115 lb (47.6 and 52.2 kg)  
> Flyweight (men/women) – between 115 and 125 lb (52.2 and 56.7 kg)  
> Bantamweight (men/women) – between 125 and 135 lb (56.7 and 61.2 kg)  
> Featherweight (men/women) – between 135 and 145 lb (61.2 and 65.8 kg)  
> Lightweight (men) – between 145 and 155 lb (65.8 and 70.3 kg)  
> Welterweight (men) – between 155 and 170 lb (70.3 and 77.1 kg)  
> Middleweight (men) – between 170 and 185 lb (77.1 and 83.9 kg)  
> Light Heavyweight (men) – between 185 and 205 lb (83.9 and 93.0 kg)  
> Heavyweight (men) – between 205 and 265 lb (93.0 and 120.2 kg)  
> Super Heavyweight (men) - Over 265 lb (120.2 kg) with no upper weight limit
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Edit: This fic now has [art](https://yaelathewordsmith.tumblr.com/post/624539999498551296/springpalettes-art-an-asayachi-commission-for), done as a commission by my awesome friend and senpai [HaruK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaruK) ([SpringPalettes](https://springpalettes-art.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr). Please show her some love for her lovely artwork!

Hitoka stares at herself critically in the floor length mirror, tapping restless fingers against her hip. Her reflection is pale, her eyes too big and too dark in a face that’s too small, too grim. Anxiety is settled gently under her skin, and she wants to move, run, pace, anything to clear her mind, but she’s already warmed up, and she needs to keep the energy she has now focused and ready.

“You can do this,” she tells her reflection. “You’re fine.”

But it sounds faint and uncertain even to her own ears, and she’s almost grateful when the dressing room door opens and her manager steps inside.

“Hey,” Kiyoko says softly, closing the door behind her. “Ready?”

Hitoka takes a deep breath and turns. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good to go.”

Kiyoko smiles at her, picking up the black, silky robe lying on a chair and helping her shrug it on. “Perfect,” she says, tugging the hood low over her face. “You look good, Hitoka-chan.”

Hitoka returns the smile weakly, letting Kiyoko gently push her outside, falling into step with her as they walk down the bright corridor.

“Still nervous?” Kiyoko says after a minute or two, when the roar of the crowd becomes loud enough to echo off the floor.

“How could I not be?” Hitoka tugs at the straps of her padded fingerless gloves fruitlessly. The anxiety is stronger now, bright and fizzling and flooding her body with every rapid heartbeat.

“You can do this, I know you can.” Kiyoko’s kitten heels click briskly on the floor. “I’ve known him for a long time, and he’s a good person. His matches are never fixed, and he has the best sportsmanship of any fighter I know. This will be a fair fight. You know I wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise.”

Hitoka makes a non-committal noise in her throat, trying to focus on keeping up with Kiyoko, on setting each foot down after the other. She can see the cage at the end of the corridor, bathed in bright light.

“You don’t need to worry about winning, you know that, right?”

“I don’t intend to throw this match, Kiyoko -”

“Of course not, you’re more than capable of putting up a good fight. But there’s no shame in tapping out if you need to - the goal was to get your name out there, and that’ll happen as soon as you step into the cage. Just do your best once you’re in there without worrying about winning.”

“Yeah.” Hitoka clenches her fists tight for a second before letting them uncurl. “Okay.”

She ducks her head to keep her face hidden as they step out of the corridor. The crowd is deafening already, the air humming with tension, and more than half the audience is chanting her opponent’s name.

Kiyoko leads her to the side of the cage, pressing cool hands into her shoulders as she slips in her black mouthguard. “Hitoka.”

“Yes?”

Kiyoko’s eyes are calm, scanning her face. “He’s powerful, and he’s fast for his size, but he’s not faster than you. Three rounds, three minutes each, one minute between each round. Don’t try for a knockout unless you’re certain you can make it work, keep your distance, hit quick and hit hard. You’re going to step inside, and you’re going to step out in eleven minutes, and I’ll be right here waiting for you. Okay?”

Hitoka has to smile. She knows all of this, but Kiyoko can always tell exactly when she needs to hear it again.

“Thanks,” she says, taking the robe off, lifting her chin. “I’ll make you proud.”

Kiyoko smiles back, squeezing her shoulders for a second as the noise rises, as people realize who ACE’s opponent is. “You always do.”

She steps aside to speak to the referee, and Hitoka jumps a couple of times on the spot, shaking out her arms and rolling her head from side to side as she tries to focus, tries to stay calm.

_Eleven minutes. Eleven minutes. He’s a good fighter. He’s a good sportsman. This will be fine._

The crowd roars, a deafening spike in the noise, and Hitoka’s head snaps up.

ACE has just walked in.

His hair is at least twice as long as hers, the top half twisted into a chestnut knot at the crown of his head and the rest flowing free. His gloves are black and blue, like his long shorts, and as he raises a hand to the crowd and smiles, Hitoka sees the famous black wing tattoo stretch broad across his torso. He’s built powerfully, of course, his tan skin glowing in the ring lights. He looks at ease, relaxed and ready, laughing as his manager says something to him and easily rolling a strong shoulder.

Until he sees her. Their gazes meet through the wire of the cage, and his smile vanishes like a candle being snuffed out. He stares at her for a long, shocked moment before turning to his fair-haired manager and saying something, and his perplexed frown grows darker at his manager's reply. He jabs his hand in her direction a couple of times, almost looking upset. The manager shrugs, saying something, and it looks like ACE snaps a reply at him.

Hitoka manages to keep her expression neutral as she turns away. She hasn’t fought many men in her career till now, but they all tend to react the same way - with confusion, outrage, condescension. It’s nothing new.

But it sparks something hot and fierce in her belly, enough to diminish the twanging of her nerves. So the great ACE is upset with his surprise challenger?

She’ll make sure he regrets it.

“There we go,” Kiyoko says softly, catching sight of the new set of her jaw as she turns back to her. “There’s the tiger. Ready?”

Hitoka smiles, and doesn’t tremble.

“Ready.”

***

Asahi turns to his manager, his mouth slack with disbelief. “ _She’s_ my opponent? Yachi Hitoka? What the fuck, Suga?”

“Yeah, I know,” Suga sighs. “Try not to make it look like murder, will you?”

“Unbelievable!” Asahi stabs a hand in his opponent’s direction. “You agreed to this? How the hell did you agree to this?”

“Our exhibition series contract isn’t up till next month, and the organisers get to choose the match up,” Suga shrugs. “There was nothing I could do. This’ll be hell for your PR though, because if you beat her too fast the audience will say it wasn’t a fair match up, and if you beat her too slow they’ll say -”

“Of course this isn’t a fair match up!” Asahi snaps, almost angry with his best friend for once. “Yachi Hitoka just barely qualifies as a flyweight! I’m almost twenty five kilograms heavier than her! It’d be like putting you in the ring with Ushijima!”

Suga winces at that - he’d been the one to clean Daichi up after his last match with Ushijima - and says, “I know, I’m sorry, but we didn’t have a choice. They agreed to it, and you have to admit taking you on is incredible publicity for her as well as for the organizers. Underdog newcomer versus favoured contender for champion, you know? It’s an exhibition match, so the rules can be bent, and I guess they wanted to see the kind of crowd it’d draw.” Suga casts a brief glance around the massive arena. “It’s certainly drawn a big one.”

“You seriously expect me to do this?” Asahi demands. “Go in there and pummel her into the ground? God, look at her -”

He looks across the cage again. Yachi is talking to her manager now, smiling a tense little smile. Her blonde, shoulder length hair is in two tight boxing braids, and she’s wearing the singlet she won her last match in, pale grey with a black tiger outlined roaring on her chest. She looks _tiny_.

“She’s like a goddamn doll,” he mutters. “I can’t fight her.”

“Hey, you can’t back out now,” Suga says, suddenly stern. “I know it’s not fair, but it’s just three rounds, okay? You don’t have to get too fierce, just make it clear you aren’t messing around. No one is expecting you to beat the crap out of her. And she isn’t a pushover, Asahi -”

“I know, I know, I saw her last match.”

“Right. She’s a dangerous fighter, so don’t go letting your guard down.”

“This isn’t right,” Asahi says, the words heavy on his tongue, because he knows he’s going into the cage anyway, because he knows as well as Suga what would happen if he really did walk out right now. All his contracts, all the fights he has lined up for the next six months would vanish like smoke. “You know this isn’t right.”

“I know,” Suga sighs. “I know. Daichi gave me so much crap for this when he found out. I’m so sorry to do this to you. Just eleven minutes, okay?”

“Just eleven minutes,” Asahi echos, all anticipation for the match replaced by worry and sour frustration in the pit of his stomach. He picks up his mouthguard and slots it in with a sigh.

He’s not going to enjoy this.

***

“Round one - fight!”

The referee drops his hand, and Hitoka hops forward to lightly tap her fists against Azumane’s before darting back. His dark eyes, always so soft and smiling in the rare interviews he does, are narrowed as he watches her, tracking her movements.

They circle each other, shifting from foot to foot. It had been hard to tell from videos of his previous matches, but Kiyoko was right, he’s lighter on his feet than most men his size. Hitoka darts forward, throwing a mock punch just to see what he’ll do, and he steps back with no move to either block or dodge. So he’s good at telling when his opponent is serious, then.

“ - Azumane and Yachi taking their time, sizing each other up for the first time, bet you never thought you’d see this match-up, folks, but it promises to be a good one - “

He aims a kick at her shin and follows with a right hook, neither of which touch her. It’s Yachi’s eyes that narrow, now. She’s seen Azumane fight, she knows what he can do. He’d deliberately given her time to move out of the way, though it was a fraction of a split second that none of the spectators would notice, that probably even the referee didn’t notice.

He’s going easy on her.

The heat of the realization must show on her face, because his arms rise a little and he settles into a more defensive stance. She can’t close distance with him, not recklessly, because once she’s trapped in those arms it’ll be over. But maybe it’s about time she tried darting in -

“ - Yachi’s been keeping her distance as she circles, a smart move, but she’s taking charge now, advancing quickly like she’s got a plan, and - ooh, a nice exchange of hits there, she landed one on his jaw and managed to dodge his shot at her ribs -”

Asahi pokes his tongue into the raw line where the inside of his cheek was crushed against the mouthguard, watching Yachi dance away from him - he hadn’t expected her to close like that, neat and sudden. He takes the opportunity to advance, kicking experimentally at her shoulder - god, her shoulder is on level with most of his other opponents’ ribs, he can’t believe Suga got him into this, that the management organized this -

“And Azumane kicks out, looks like he’s still testing the waters, that didn’t have quite his usual power behind it, and Yachi dodges it easily, they don’t call her Sparrow for nothing - and the second time around she catches his ankle with both hands, she’s tiny but look at that, she knows exactly how to leverage Azumane’s weight against him, and she pulls him forward right into a _lovely_ straight kick right to the jaw, absolutely beautiful work by Yachi Hitoka, that's got to have hurt -”

Hitoka can’t help smiling slightly as she retreats. Azumane’s brief expression of shock as his head had snapped back had been priceless.

“ - could have easily been a knockout blow with more power behind it . . . we’re down halfway, another minute and a half to go, and it’s Azumane who initiates again, but none of his hits land . . . he’s got to be a little unsettled, he doesn't usually face opponents who move like this -”

Hitoka ducks under his left hook and whirls around to the side, hooking a foot around his ankle and yanking back hard. He loses his footing, falling to one knee, and she slams her elbows into the back of his head once, twice, thrice before he can get his arms up.

“ - and would you _look_ at that speed, Yachi lands an absolutely vicious series of blows and darts back, out of reach of those arms, and the crowd is _loving_ this, they can’t believe this, the little Sparrow is certainly giving the one and only ACE a hard time so far - “

Azumane advances with more purpose now, giving her less leeway, but they only have forty seconds left on the clock, and she excels at keeping a safe distance from opponents bigger than her while finding ways to attack. They exchange a set of blows - his fist catches her on the ear, a powerful blow that makes her head ring - but most of the time is spent fencing, feinting, and before Hitoka knows it -

“ - and that’s it for this round! Sparrow putting up a great show, she’s sure to have a lot more fans by the time this match is over -”

She retreats to her corner, wiping sweat off her forehead. “Beautiful,” Kiyoko says as she arrives, handing her a bottle of water. “He won’t underestimate you again.”

Hitoka huffs a laugh before taking a quick swig, pressing an ice pack to her ear with her free hand. That punch had really hurt.

“Feeling good?”

“Yeah.” She sets the bottle down, jumping a couple times. She does feel good, thrumming with electricity and anticipation, the nerves from before gone. “Really good, actually.”

“Perfect. Go back in there and give him hell.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hitoka grins as the bell signaling the end of the break sounds.

Azumane is definitely faster this time. He’s the first to close, and Hitoka finds it significantly harder than before to stay out of his grasp. He catches her on the shoulder twice, and once gets close enough to slam his fist into her stomach and knock the wind out of her, a heavy and painful blow. She stumbles back so he can’t press the advantage, and he settles back into circling her, waiting for an opening.

 _Like hell I’m going to give it to him_ , she thinks fiercely, struggling to get her breath back as she puts her fists up again.

“ - more than a minute in and they’ve displayed to advantage so far, Yachi with some really neat footwork and Azumane starting to use those sledgehammer punches he’s so famous for, starting to push the match his way, and - Yachi kicks out, Azumane guards but she takes the chance, it’s really an education watching how Yachi darts in to close with her opponent, slips in and a _beautiful_ hook to the jaw again, let me tell you, if that’d had Sawamura or Aran’s power behind it Azumane would be laid out cold - he reels, looking a bit dazed there, she uses the chance to absolutely pummel his face, but she only gets four strikes in before he lashes out with one foot and she guards, retreating to avoid that powerful kick -”

 _God, that’s going to bruise_ , Asahi thinks, resisting the urge to touch his face as he advances. He locks eyes with her, almost daring her to make a move, and she fucking grins at him, a quick black smile in a doll’s face.

And he suddenly wants to laugh. This is still wrong, and unfair, but hell, it’s . . . it’s kind of fun. She uses tactics he’s never had to go up against before - which is both refreshing and annoying as hell - and with that dark, steely look in her eye, like she’s daring him to continue to do her the disrespect of giving her less than his all. Well, she’s making it bloody impossible anyway, so he’d better figure out how to deal with her before she clocks him again.

“Azumane closing in, looks like he’s finally trying to shut Yachi down once and for all, but he just can’t seem to manage it, Yachi’s almost dancing around the ring . . . she manages to get in a couple of hits but they’re nowhere near enough to make Azumane slow down, she kicks out and oh! A bit of a miscalculation by Yachi there, he’s managed to grab her leg, and she tries to break free but she’s on the ground in a second, and would you look at Azumane’s hold right there, that’s going to be hard to break out of, she’s not in a pretty position -”

They’re face to face, Hitoka's left leg trapped under Azumane’s weight and the thigh of her right clamped tight in his arm as he rains down powerful blows with his other fist, slamming into her face, her shoulder, her neck. She does her best to block them, but though her guard slows him down it’s about as effective as paper at actually blocking his punches.

God, his weight is going to crush her - he’s leveraging the press of his hips to stay upright, to give him space to punch her, and that takes a hell of a lot of core strength but he certainly isn’t lacking that. She needs to get out of this before she’s battered into defeat, but his weight is crushing the breath out of her and she can’t get her right leg out of his grip, fuck - both of their skins are slippery with sweat, sharp pain is blooming along her arms as she takes his hits, his harsh breath is so loud in her ears that she can barely hear the crowd cheering, he’s punching her over and over and over and there’s nowhere to grasp, nowhere to go -

“Get out of it, Hitoka!”

Kiyoko’s yell rings clear across the cage, and Hitoka slams her elbow upwards the next time Azumane swings. It connects awkwardly with his nose, not the best she could have done, but it makes him recoil for the second she needs to yank her right leg out of his grasp and slam her foot into his waist as hard as she can. He shifts away from the impact automatically, enough that she manages to free her other leg from under him, and Hitoka swings her hips up with a shout of effort, wrapping her legs tight around his neck.

“ - turns the tables on Azumane in an incredible move! I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t just seen it, but Yachi breaks out of Azumane’s pin and her thighs are choking him now, she’s bent almost in half there for a second but he sits up as he grapples with her legs - it’s definitely going to be harder to keep her grip upside down like that, he’s really pummeling her thighs in an effort to loosen her hold there, and -”

She manages to grab one of his wrists before twisting her hips, sudden and savage, and Asahi’s head thuds into the floor, her thigh pressing into his neck as she grips his hand tight against her chest and forces his arm to bend.

“ - and the crowd goes crazy! Yachi has Azumane in a classic arm bar, he’s got to be feeling that terrible pressure, you can see the painful way his elbow’s being twisted - he hits at her legs but Yachi is relentless, she just refuses to give in, and it looks like Azumane is trying to get to his feet to shake her off - but there’s the bell! An action packed last thirty seconds, and Yachi has certainly exceeded all expectations here tonight!”

She lets go of Asahi’s arm, lying there panting as he rolls away and gets to his feet. He gives her a brief nod as she sits up, waiting to see that she stands before heading to his corner

“Ready to be a little more serious now?” Suga asks dryly, handing Asahi a bottle of water.

Asahi takes a long drink. “I’m not fucking going easy on her,” he gasps, and grabs a towel to wipe his face. “She’s got to be genetically engineered or something, I can’t believe this.”

“Oh? You’re saying that just because she’s a _woman_ \- “

“Fuck off,” Asahi is surprised into laughing. “You know that’s not it, she’s _four weight classes_ below me. I can’t remember the last time Daichi managed to get me in an arm bar, but she did it when I had her pinned, god.” He rolls his arm, wincing when his elbow clicks. “Fucking incredible.”

Suga hums, grinning. “Wasn’t particularly effective, though, you’d have broken out of it pretty soon.”

“Yeah, but if she can do this with me I can’t imagine what a terror she is in her own weight class.”

“Christ, you have a crush on her now?”

Asahi tosses the sweaty towel in his face with an irritated huff, fighting the involuntary hint of red creeping into his face at the visceral memory of what Yachi’s body had felt like under his, struggling to throw off his weight. “Shut up, Suga. Don’t be disrespectful.”

“You’re embarrassed,” Suga laughs, easily shaking the towel off.

“It’s just a fight, okay? Don’t make me think of my opponent in a way that I shouldn’t.”

“I’m teasing, I'm teasing.”

“Hmph.” He takes another drink of water and hands it back as the bell rings.

“Go get her!” Suga calls from behind him, and he raises a hand in answer.

He gives it nothing less than his all this time, and Yachi Hitoka, rising star of women’s MMA fighting for the past three months, meets the challenge magnificently. Even with an abdomen that has to be aching terribly from the punch he landed, even with arms and legs and face peppered with bruises, she hasn’t lost an inch of her determination. She catches many more hits than before, but also manages to land a few sharp ones of her own. They circle the cage over and over again, feinting and trading increasingly fierce blows.

“ - coming up on the end of round three now, and it looks like Azumane’s punishing hits have taken their toll, Yachi seems to be struggling to keep up her usual speed - oh, I spoke too soon! A _lovely_ blow right to the nose there, Yachi grabbing the back of Azumane’s head and slamming it into her knee, but he takes the opportunity to duck under her guard, getting an arm around her and dragging her down! Utterly unfazed by the nosebleed, they’re both on the floor, he’s got her in a rear choke -”

Azumane’s legs wrap around her waist, effectively clamping down on her movement, and his arm is locked tight around her throat. Hitoka grunts as she struggles like a hooked fish, trying to do something, anything to get out of it -

“- and it really is over for Yachi, I don’t know if there’s any way she can get out of this one. I’d say even a heavyweight champion like Ushijima would have trouble breaking a hold like that, and - yes, you can see Yachi’s face growing red as she struggles -”

\- but she can barely raise her hips an inch, her feet scrabble on the floor but she can’t get any leverage, and she can’t work against his weight to roll over. She strikes at whatever she can reach of him with her fists, with her elbows, but nothing weakens his hold. The heat of his bare skin is burning through the back of her singlet, and his iron arm is cutting off the flow of blood in her neck -

“ - there’s only seventeen seconds left on the clock, though, will she make it? Can she make it? The crowd is wild, on their feet as they wait to see the outcome of this incredible -”

\- it has to be close to the end of the round, it has to be almost over, she has to try and last this out, she has to, but black spots are dancing across her vision and she can’t breathe, she can’t _breathe_ -

“ - must be taking a toll on her that - _oh, and_ _it’s all over!_ Yachi has tapped out after lasting a full sixteen seconds in that absolutely punishing hold! What a fight, ladies and gentlemen! What a fight, and what incredible fighters!”

Azumane’s grip had relaxed the instant she tapped his leg, and he’s crouched next to her now as she coughs on her hands and knees on the cage floor. The referee is on her other side with a hand on her shoulder and light fingertips on her throat, monitoring her pulse.

“ . . . hear me? Yachi-san?”

“Yeah,” she rasps. “Yeah, I'm good.”

“You sure you’re okay?” It’s Azumane, his voice rough from exertion, one hand pressed to his nose to stem the bleeding and his brow furrowed when she looks at him.

“I’m fine,” she says, smiling briefly as she sits back on her heels. “Good fight, Azumane-san.”

“You too,” he says, getting to his feet and offering her a hand up. She takes it, and the crowd’s cheering redoubles as he pulls her into a quick half hug. He pats her back before they step back, bow, and head to their corners.

Kiyoko’s the first one waiting for her, smiling one of her rare full smiles. “Hey,” she says, giving her a tight hug.

“Hey,” Hitoka sighs into her shoulder.

Kiyoko cups her face in her hands as she pulls back. “You did so good, Hitoka-chan.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, listen to them.”

Hitoka’s just lost. She’s just tapped out of the third round, with twelve goddamn seconds to go. And yet whole sections of the crowd are chanting her name, whooping and cheering as she gets to her feet.

“But why?” she says out loud, pulling out her mouthguard and taking a long drink from the bottle Kiyoko’s pressing into her hand.

“Because you were that amazing,” Kiyoko says, draping a towel around her shoulders. ”Come on, the referee’s waiting.”

They head back to the centre of the cage, and Hitoka steps away from Kiyoko so the referee can grasp her hand. She waits with her head bowed as the announcer says, “Ladies and gentlemen, your referee, Ukai Keishin, put a stop to this fight after two minutes and forty eight seconds in the third round, for your winner by rear naked choke - Azumane Asahi!”

The referee lets go of her hand to raise Azumane’s, and she claps with the rest of the crowd as he raises his arms for them, as he throws up a peace sign and smiles for the camera. The adrenaline is fading now, the buzz draining from her body, and the space left behind in her chest is cold and empty and aching. Every goddamn part of her body hurts, her throat is raw, she can’t breathe too deeply without pain shooting through her stomach, and what does she have to show for it? Nothing but a loss. Sure, she held her own for the most part, but what real chance did she have against someone with almost a year more of competitive experience than her, against the favourite to win the upcoming men’s welterweight championship? It was the obvious result, but it still leaves bitter exhaustion in its wake, because - because it would have felt so, so glorious if she’d won, if it had been a real fight, if she’d stood a real chance, if it hadn't been just - a show for the audience.

The cameras all cluster around Azumane, and she takes the opportunity to slip out of the cage, head down as she bites back stinging tears.

“What’s wrong?” Kiyoko murmurs, close behind her. Hitoka just shakes her head and heads backstage, wanting nothing more than a place to be alone.

***

It’s a while before Asahi manages to wave aside the photographers and the fans and get back to his dressing room. He takes a minute to towel off as best he can, strip off his gloves, and shrug on a shirt, then grabs Suga by the wrist and goes in search of Yachi and her manager.

“You really should get looked at by the medic first -”

Asahi waves aside the cotton Suga is trying to press to his nose. “Later, I’ll do it later, I already have a splint and it’s barely bleeding anymore. Just five minutes.”

“Do you have to,” Suga sighs as they turn into yet another corridor that looks like the one they just left.

“Yes, I do, and you have to come with me,” Asahi says firmly. “That’s her dressing room, right?”

It is, but it’s empty. They try the bathrooms next, and arrive to find Shimizu leaning against the wall outside, calmly scrolling through her phone. She looks up as they approach, nodding in greeting.

“Azumane. Sugawara.”

“Hi, Shimizu,” Asahi smiles.

“Hey, Shimizu, it’s good to see you.” Suga smiles too, stepping forward to hug her warmly. “How’ve you been?”

“Busy,” Shimizu says, returning the hug. “My client is an ambitious one.”

“I heard, yeah. You’ve done, what, six fights in the last two months?”

“And won them all.” Shimizu tilts her head a little, looking between them, and the corner of her mouth quirks up. “Did you two come to talk about Hitoka’s career?”

“Ah, no,” Asahi says. “I actually wanted to talk to Yachi-san, is that okay?”

Shimizu nods to the door behind her. “She’s inside, she might take a while. But I don’t see why not. Good fight today, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Asahi can’t help frowning a little. “Why did you agree to it, Shimizu?”

She shrugs, calm as ever. “I knew she’d do well, that she’d put up a great fight against you, and that it would lead to a lot of publicity for her. She rarely gets to display her skill against a larger, more mainstream opponent, and now that skill will be appreciated by millions of fans who might never have heard of her before.”

“But you had to know she’d lose.”

“Of course. But the objective wasn’t to win.”

“But -”

“She’s tougher than you know, Azumane-kun. She knows how to take a beating and get back up.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t -”

He cuts himself off as the bathroom door swings open. Yachi has changed out of the singlet into a T-shirt and a pair of loose tracks, and she looks awful, standing in the doorway with bruises beginning to bloom in pale shadows on her arms, her face, her neck. Her lower lip is split and swollen, her hair has evidently been yanked out of the braids and tied back carelessly, and she has an ice pack in one hand. And, like that wasn’t enough to send a pang of sick remorse shooting through Asahi’s stomach, he sees that her eyes are rimmed with red.

 _She’s been crying_ , he realizes, and wants nothing more than to kick himself for ever signing onto these goddamn exhibition matches in the first place.  
  
“Oh,” she says. Her voice is soft, tired. “Azumane-san. And -?”

“Ah, this is my manager, Sugawara Koushi.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says, bowing slightly. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t shake your hand, I’m not exactly in the best shape right now -”

“Of course, of course,” Suga says hastily, bowing in return. “Please don't push yourself, Yachi-san. You fought very well today.”

She smiles faintly. “Thank you.”

“Feeling better, Hitoka?” Kiyoko says, reaching out and rubbing a hand gently down her back.

“A little, yeah. Could I have another ice pack, please?”

“Sure, I’ll get you one.” Shimizu turns an inquiring glance on Asahi and Suga. “Do both of you want to talk to her, or -?”

“Just this guy,” Suga says, patting Asahi’s shoulder. “I’ll come with you, Shimizu.”

“Are you okay with that, Hitoka?”

“Well . . . okay, sure,” Yachi says, looking reluctant, but she follows Asahi a little way down the corridor, where they’re less likely to be overhead, and leans against the wall with creditable calm as she waits for him to speak.

“So, hi,” Asahi says, wincing inside at how awkward he sounds. “Um, Yachi-san, I just wanted to say that you fought really, really well. It was one of the best matches I’ve fought in a while.”

Her smile is a small, brittle thing. “That’s very kind of you, Azumane-san.”

“I didn’t want to fight, if I’m being honest.” He meets her gaze as openly as he can. “And if I’d known I was fighting you before I walked into the arena, I would have done everything I could to refuse the match. It was unfair to you in every way possible, and - well, frankly I think your manager did you a disservice by agreeing to it. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but -”

She folds her arms across her chest, her mouth thinning, and something of that dark steel creeps back into her gaze. “Sorry, but that isn’t for you to judge. My manager knows what she’s doing. And I’m sorry that you feel like I wasn’t a worthy opponent, but I think I did my best.”

“It’s not that! God, it’s the exact opposite - you were such a great opponent even with the cards stacked against you in so many ways, when I had height and reach and power on you, and you deserved a match where you could show the audience the full extent of what you can do.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words for what he wants to say. “You - you deserved to fight someone on an equal footing, in a fair fight, not to be just - thrown into a match where it was a question of how long you’d last, instead of a question of winning.”

Her eyes widen, and he thinks he sees tears gleaming there before she looks away.

“The point wasn’t to win,” she murmurs. “The point was publicity.”

“I know, and I still say it wasn't fair to you.”

She sniffs, pressing her nose to the sleeve of her shirt for a second. “I - I don’t have anything to say, Azumane-san. All I can tell you is that I don’t regret agreeing to the match.”

“I understand,” he says quietly. There’s silence for a moment, Yachi staring at her feet, Asahi watching her, wondering if he should say something more.

“How’s your stomach?” he asks eventually. “And your arms?”

She grins as she looks up, both teasing and challenging despite her red eyes. “How’s your nose? And your jaw?”

He laughs at that. “Okay, point taken, but I know how hard I hit you, and I know how much it must have hurt.”

She shrugs, and he notices the brief shadow of pain that flits across her face. “I’ve taken worse, Azumane-san. You don’t need to worry about me just because I’m not the kind of opponent you usually face.”

“If you couldn’t take it, you wouldn’t have fought,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t take a worse toll on you than - well, than the kind of opponent I usually face. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be condescending, but forgive me for feeling a little guilty about hitting someone thirty five centimetres shorter and twenty five kilograms lighter than me.”

She opens her mouth, closes it, and sighs. “I can’t argue with that. It - to be honest, it hurts like hell, but I’ll heal.”

“May I?” he says, raising a tentative hand to her face, and she’s quiet for a second before she nods. He traces across the flood of swelling purple and black patterning her skin with one finger, resting lightly against her still-bleeding lip.

“Fuck,” he says, very softly, his heart aching for her. “Please, please refuse matches like this in the future, Yachi-san. Our job means that we get hurt, I know, but no one should be hurt as bad as this. If it’s like this on the rest of your body, you won’t even be able to get back to a normal training regime for at least a week, if not longer.”

Her gaze is clear as she steps back, away from his hand. “Your concern is appreciated, Azumane-san, but I will fight whom I choose. I know my limits.”

He ducks his head, feeling even guiltier as he accepts the rebuke. “I apologise. It wasn’t my place, but I just - I would have regretted not saying it. I’ll - I’ll leave now, you probably want to be alone, and you really need ice on those as soon as possible. Thank you for taking the time to speak to me.”

She says nothing as he leaves, but he’s hardly taken five steps when she calls after him.

“Azumane-san?”

“Yes?”

“I, um -” She’s fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “I appreciate that you took me seriously as an opponent. And I really appreciate that you fought as hard as you did, even against someone who’s thirty five centimetres shorter and twenty five kilograms lighter than you.”

He smiles at her as warmly as he can. “You’d have broken a lot more than my nose if I hadn’t. You’re an incredibly skilled fighter. No one who faces you could possibly fail to take you seriously.”

She chuckles, but it’s just a little bitter. “You’d be surprised. Thank you, though. It was a pleasure to fight you.”

“And you.” He bows to her. “Good luck for future fights.”

She bows back. “Thank you. Good luck to you too.”

“Thanks, Yachi-san. Take care of yourself, okay?”

She nods, smiling the first real smile he’s seen from her, soft and sweet. He leaves her standing in that bright corridor, a badly battered doll with a spirit still burning fierce and undimmed, thinking that no one has ever commanded his admiration like she has before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhhh i'm so sorry for the big blocks of italic text in this chapter but i didn't have a choice :/ it looks better on mobile!

_Ten days later_

  
  
The doorbell chimes for the fifth time in as many seconds, and Asahi groans as he pulls the door open.

“Every time, Suga,” he says, accepting an enthusiastic hug. “Would it kill you to just ring once?”

“Absolutely,” Suga sings, stepping inside and raising the bottles he’s holding. “We’re celebrating, guys, we don’t have time to waste!”

“He’s been like the whole ride here,” Daichi sighs behind him, sliding an arm around Asahi’s waist and squeezing briefly. “You can deal with him now.”

“Traitor,” Asahi smiles, hugging his shoulders and closing the door behind him. “Wine can go in the fridge, Suga, and the food’s on its way. And happy birthday.”

“That’s the fifth time today,” Suga laughs, planting a quick kiss on Asahi’s cheek. “Thanks, love. Come help me set up, guys, and then we have a movie marathon to get to!”

“For a twenty five year old with a flourishing managing career, you sure know how to act like you’re twelve,” Daichi teases, and Suga sticks his tongue out at him.

“Dai, set up the movie, and Suga, help me in the kitchen,” Asahi says, pushing them firmly in different directions. “Did you start drinking already?”

“Maybe - what, do I seem like it?”

“A little,” Asahi grins, handing Suga three plates to take to the table. “But you get a free pass today.”

“You’re damn right I do. Oh, hey -” Suga fishes his phone out of his pocket and swipes it open, handing it to Asahi. “I forgot to tell you, the video of your match with Yachi came out yesterday!”

“What, really?” Asahi taps play and skips to the start of the fight, watching himself and Yachi circling each other in the cage. 

“Yeah, and it’s already got almost five hundred thousand views. A lot are your fans, but her popularity really shot up after that match.”

“That’s great - oh, fuck, I forgot she kicked me right under the jaw. That really hurt . . . and look at her footwork there, damn.”

“Yes, yes, she’s amazing, we’re all aware of your crush. When’s the food getting here?”

“There’s a difference between having a crush and having respect for someone _,_ ” Asahi huffs, pausing the video and opening the comments. “And you’re not getting any food if you . . . don’t . . .”

_ACE was totally pulling his punches wtf??_

_lmao imagine what he thought when he walked into the ring and saw she was the challenger like ‘damn that’s instant money in the bank i’m totally winning this’_

_She had the confidence to get in the ring but not to push through, too bad for her. Great effort though._

_this is an outrage, how are they letting a man beat up a woman like this??? unbelievable, this fight was so unfair_

_ace beating her hands down, too bad yachi never stood a chance_

_guess she just cant keep up with the big leagues, such an obvious publicity stunt_

_who asked her to fight him ofc she was gonna lose no way she could ever beat him_

_lolol this is what the feminists wanted and look what it got them, he fucking owned her_

“Asahi? What’s up?”

_she let herself get pummeled like that just for the fame? shit yachi san_

_And she lost anyway lmao what was the point_

_Of course she’d lose, she’s fighting a dude twice her size_

_at least when transgenders fight women they pretend it’s fair, this time they didn’t even try to disguise the fact that it’s a man just beating the shit out of someone unequal to him_

_This is why mixed matches shouldn’t be allowed, there’s sex divisions for a reason. You can't argue with biology._

_Men are just stronger, why did they even do this match, we all knew what would happen_

“Fucking assholes,” Asahi says softly, continuing to scroll. Some of the comments are praising Yachi for the fight she put up, but the rest are all _this is why they shouldn’t let women fight men_ and _sorry was there a point to this_ and _he could have knocked her out in the first round he was holding back_ -

“Asahi!” Suga yanks the phone out of his hand, frowning at him. “What’s up with you? What’s wrong?”

“The comments,” Asahi growls. “It’s so disrespectful to her as a fighter to say she had to lose because she’s a woman, to say that she didn’t do her goddamn best. I can’t believe this.”

“Come on, you’re gonna get upset over these trolls?” Suga flicks through the comments almost contemptuously. “You know her worth, she knows her worth, every MMA fighter knows how good she is. Don’t waste your time on this, yeah?”

“I want them _all_ to know her worth, Suga. And it’s not just her, they’d react like this if I’d won against any other female fighter,” Asahi snaps. “This is how MMA fans think, and it’s about time they started thinking differently.”

Suga sighs, leaning back against the counter. “What can you do about it, though?”

Asahi drums his fingers on the counter for a second, thinking, before he says, “Can you make me a Twitter account? And make sure what I want to say gets approved to be posted?”

Suga grins, his eyes gleaming with interest. “Sure, no problem. Just don’t make it tame, or it won’t be any fun butting heads with the boss.”

“Oh, don't worry. It’s definitely going to be the exact opposite of tame.”

***

_Two days later_

  
  


Hitoka’s phone pings softly in the dark, and she groans, rolling over to grab it. A text from Kiyoko lights up the screen.

  
  


**Kiyoko** (10:17 PM)

_ACE TAKES UP TWITTER TO FIGHT FOR SPARROW’S HONOUR!_

_Check it out, Asahi got pissed off for once :3_

  
  


“What the -?” Hitoka mutters, clicking on the link and squinting at the page.

  
  


_‘Notoriously media-shy MMA fighter Azumane Asahi, popularly known as ACE, blew up headlines on Saturday evening when he posted a Twitter thread responding to comments on his recent match with Yachi Hitoka, the up and coming favourite in women’s MMA fighting. ACE’s full thread has been reposted below -_

_“So I read a lot of the comments on my match with Yachi Hitoka-san, and I wanted to make a few things clear. One, since many people seem to be deriding her for losing the match, I’d like to tell you all that getting into the ring with someone not only above your weight class but with height and reach on you is terrifying. I definitely couldn't have done what she did, and even if I had, there’s no way I would have lasted three rounds. I’d never met Yachi-san before, and the fact that she did that with courage and resolution gave me an enormous respect for her._

_“Two, she is one of the deadliest fighters in MMA, period. My arm still hurts from that wicked arm bar she put me in, and if I’d been in her weight class she would have probably knocked me out in half a minute. Her speed and skill are indisputable, and if you want to argue about that you can argue with me. It is an insult to her - and to me - to say that either of us didn’t take it seriously or it was faked for publicity._

_  
_ _“Three, I will no longer enter into contracts for surprise challenger matches. I was unbelievably privileged to fight Yachi-san, but I regret participating in a situation so unfair to her, a situation that would be unfair and even dangerous to **anyone** in the lighter weight categories. MMA fighters aren’t trained to pull punches. All my exhibition matches from now on will be mediated beforehand, and I will not fight anyone from a weight class lower than lightweight. _

_  
_ _“And four, I saw a lot of comments along the lines of ‘This (men versus women matches) is what the feminists wanted, and they got what they deserved’. No, this isn't what we wanted. We wanted men and women to be able to display their strength and skill on an_ **_equal_ ** _footing, to be able to prove that fighting prowess doesn’t depend on sex, and my match with Yachi-san was in no way, shape or form equal. I hope that the MMA industry provides her with many more chances to go up against opponents really worth her while and prove misguided fans wrong.”_

_A very strong statement from Azumane-san, and one that’s likely to get him in some hot water with the match organisers! Are they merely due to strong principles, or does ACE maybe carry a torch for Sparrow? Only time will tell!’_

  
  


**Me** (10:23 PM)

_OH MY GOD OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK??????_

  
  


***  
  


Hitoka can’t quite believe it even in the light of day. Azumane Asahi, the one and only ACE, a man who has never posted anything online - not cute cooking clips like Yamaguchi, not dog selfies like Sawamura, not even occasional workout photos like Ushijima - had made a Twitter account just to condemn trolls who hadn’t taken her seriously. He’d not only criticized fans for being sexist, not only subtly condemned the MMA industry itself for the way it handles exhibition matches, but declared that she is fierce, she is strong, she is someone worthy of as much respect as he is. And he'd done it for an opponent he’d met exactly once before.

It = it doesn't make sense. He’d struck her as a man with a sense of justice and a measure of quiet confidence, but soft-spoken and unassuming, someone likely to keep well away from any kind of sensational attention. Yet he’d practically courted precisely that kind of attention, pissing off the match organisers - and probably his managing agency - as well as a lot of fans, and why? What on earth about her had made him feel strongly enough to make such an unyielding statement to the world?

She can’t even begin to guess. She’s not witty or charming enough to have impressed him that much in a single conversation, and certainly not right after a fight, aching from a hundred different blows and with the curtest of words, the shortest of tempers. It couldn’t have been her skill as an opponent, because he’s fought and won against more skilled opponents than she’s ever even faced. And it isn’t that he pitied her, the poor little girl who got beaten up, because Azumane Asahi had spoken to her like he’d seen her for what she can truly do, for who she truly is. He’d understood what she could have done to an opponent of her own class, he’d understood how the knowledge that her defeat had been inevitable had smarted, and he’d understood that she’d done what she’d had to do regardless.

And that understanding was all it had taken for him to do this? She can’t bring herself to believe that, it would be the height of conceit, but - what else does she have to believe? So puzzlement, embarrassment at the sly suggestions of the tabloids, and a deep gratitude for his integrity accompany the reluctant pride to the way she holds herself as she trains that week.

As she does, all she hears around her are speculations on what could have prompted ACE’s statement, on what the repercussions for his career and reputation might be, on why certain other fighters had followed his lead and certain others had not. For the first time, Kiyoko sits her down and drills her on what she should and shouldn’t say to paparazzi after her match.

And it proves to be necessary. She wins in the second round, and cameras swarm her like never before as she steps out of the cage with the medal around her neck.

“Yachi-san, congratulations on your win! Could you give us a response to ACE’s statement online about your match?”

She takes a deep breath and raises her chin, smiling as well as she can. “My agency has already sent a formal thank you to Azumane-san. He’s a kind and honourable man, and I’m very grateful for his unexpected support.”

“Yachi-san, what do you have to say about rumours that the two of you are a couple?”

“I’ve only spoken to him once in my life,” she chuckles, doing her best to sound nonchalant, “So it should go without saying that those rumours are entirely false.”

“Do you agree with his statement that the match was highly unfair to you and that -”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Kiyoko cuts in, easily slipping between Hitoka and the photographers. “Yachi-san needs to get looked at by the medic, so unfortunately that’s all the time we have for today. Excuse us, please.”

They make it safely back to the dressing room, and Hitoka sinks into a chair with a sigh as the medic, Moniwa-san, begins to go over her shoulders and neck. “If that’s what being a celebrity is like you can stop trying to make me famous,” she calls across the room to where Kiyoko is looking at some paperwork.

“You handled it well, though,” Kiyoko smiles. “Dignified and honest. They don’t have anything to grasp at, Hitoka, it’ll blow over by next week.”

“If you say so - ouch!”

“Does that hurt?” The medic prods at her side once more, and Hitoka winces.

“Yes, it does, Moniwa-san.”

He goes over the area more gently. “It’s just a big bruise as far as I can tell, but if you notice blood in your vomit or stool -”

“I remember, we go over this every time,” she says, smiling at him as he tilts her face to the side and shines a light in her eye.

“Well, you should stop your opponents from punching you in ways likely to lead to internal bleeding, then,” he says, mock-sternly. “Mouth open, please.”

He looks over her teeth, then moves on to her arms and legs, making sure her joints have their full range of motion and that no tendons or ligaments are strained. Kiyoko brings the paperwork over to her for a couple of signatures, then sits chatting with her and Moniwa-san as they go through the rest of the examination. And Hitoka replies, and laughs, but neither the conversation nor the warm glow of victory in her chest quite distract her from remembering a different set of fingers on her skin, tentative and light and so very careful where Moniwa-san’s are practiced, firm, efficient.

 _You’re not in high school_ , she tells her brain firmly. _Get it together. Don’t let the tabloids affect you like this._

Which works well enough when she’s busy with training and signing on for matches and generally keeping her career going. It doesn’t work quite as well on quiet mornings with her hands curled around a cup of steaming tea, when she lets herself daydream on the way home in Kiyoko’s car, on nights when memories and dreams tangle together in the hazy twilight between sleeping and waking. It’s severely inconvenient, remembering Azumane’s low laugh and the line of his jaw and _Her speed and skill are indisputable_ randomly through the day, and she can’t blame it all on gratitude. She finds that she’d very much like to speak to him again, thank him herself, and perhaps - make a friend? Something more?

She slaps her cheeks firmly when that thought arrives, glaring at herself in her bathroom mirror.

“He’s nice, and a evidently good person,” she says sternly, “and wanting to know him better is fine, but it’s not going to happen. We said thank you, and that’s it. You are _not_ going weak at the knees because a man did a decent thing for you. Your bar is not that low. You need to focus on proving him right, not waste time thinking silly things. Okay, Hitoka?”

Her subconscious subsides with a grumble, and she manages to keep it shut up for a while - until she’s at Kiyoko's place about a week later, going over prospective matches they could do in September and the details of her application for the women’s championship in October. They’ve just put everything away, and Kiyoko is setting out plates and glasses for lunch.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to help?” Hitoka asks, hovering around the kitchen.

“I’m good, Hitoka-chan,” Kiyoko smiles. “Do you want to switch on the TV and see if there’s anything worth watching?”

“Sure!” Hitoka grabs the remote, hopping up onto the bar stool by the kitchen counter. “Is there anything in particular you wanna watch?”

“Whatever’s interesting,” Kiyoko says over her shoulder. “Maybe a talk show? Or a movie?”

“Okay, let’s see . . .” Hitoka flips through the channels. “How about a celeb talk show?”

“Who’s the celeb?”

“Um, the director, Ennoshita Chikara.”

Kiyoko wrinkles her nose, putting a bowl in the microwave. “Nah. It’s weird seeing a high school kouhai on TV.”

“Spiderverse?”

“Mm, seen it like five times.”

“Cooking show?”

“What are they cooking?”

“Tripe? I think?”

“Ew, no.”

Hitoka laughs, going past the sports channels, and a very familiar face flashes by. She quickly flips back, and sure enough, it’s Azumane in a seated interview with SJ Network sports journalist Iwaizumi Hajime.

 _“ - surprising many people in the industry with your statement,”_ Iwaizumi says, cool and professional as always. _“You’ve received support from some big names, like Sawamura ‘Samurai’ Daichi and Tanaka ‘Tank’ Saeko, but you’ve also lost a number of fans who claim your views are overly politicized or too left wing. Would you like to respond?”_

Azumane is dressed in a neat grey suit and a navy tie that suit him admirably. His hair is in a bun, he has one leg crossed casually over the other, and he smiles as comfortably as though he’s sitting in his own home. _“I wouldn’t count Daichi’s support as significant, we’ve known each other for so long that he practically has no choice but to support me no matter what I do,”_ he says. _“But I was really grateful for the unexpected support from Tanaka-san, Yamaguchi-san, Hayato-san and several other people.”_

Kiyoko looks around at the voice. “Is that Azumane-kun? He’s on TV?”

“Uh, looks like it.”

 _“I wasn’t trying to start a revolution or anything,”_ Azumane continues. _“I just wanted to state what I thought, and it’s really great to hear they’ve also decided to limit the weight class below which they’ll take opponents. As for the fans I’ve lost, well . . . frankly, if they were offended enough by what I said to stop giving me their support, I’d prefer that they hadn’t supported me in the first place.”_

“Holy shit,” Hitoka murmurs. 

On screen, Iwaizumi’s eyebrow goes up a notch, the corner of his mouth twitching. _“I see. You don’t think your statements were particularly radical, then.”_

_“I really don’t. I think I was a little blind to how the industry and fans view female fighters, but the reaction to my match with Yachi-san certainly opened my eyes. There’s this sense that female fighters will always be second rate, you know? To the extent that if they compete with a man it’s not only unfair but cruel to the woman, and an insult to the man. It’s a point of view that baffles me. I mean, you couldn’t pay me to step into the ring with an incredible fighter like Amanai Kanoka-san, who would probably knock me out in the first thirty seconds. And, like I said in the tweet, I think Yachi-san could have done the same if I was a flyweight. Yet if either of them fight a man and lose, people are going to say it’s the obvious result. It makes no sense to me, and I don’t see why saying that is considered to be radical.”_

Iwaizumi briefly glances down at the cards in his hand. _“I looked through some of those comments myself, and one sentiment that turned up repeatedly was that men are, on average, stronger than women, which is why matching them up for fights is considered to be unfair.”_

Azumane laughs, and it’s startling to hear such a derisive sound from him. _“Yeah, they say it’s just biology and talk about fat to muscle ratio and testosterone levels and all the rest of it. I really doubt it’s that simple. I mean, I’m not a sociologist or a researcher, I don’t want to assume, but I think more men on average being stronger than women probably means that men are more likely to have access to sports, to training, to better competition, which leads to more of them being better fighters. That doesn’t mean that women, as an entire class of people, are inherently weaker than men and will never be able to directly compete with them. Like - okay, so there’s this perception that dark-skinned people - particularly men - from certain African countries are physically stronger than people from other places, which is why they’re overrepresented in sprinting, in endurance running, in basketball, in so many sports. There are claims that they have higher bone density and more lean muscle mass, so technically they’re biologically predisposed to be more athletic. I personally think that’s - am I allowed to swear?”_

Iwaizumi smiles. _“I don’t think so, Azumane-san.”_

 _“Okay, I personally think that’s rubbish, as rubbish as the idea that East Asian athletes do worse in endurance sports than in sports like gymnastics. Yet despite these conceptions being extremely widespread, no one is going to tell me that fighting Aran Ojiro would be unfair to me. If I lose, no one is going to say ‘Well, Azumane is of purely Japanese descent while Aran isn’t, so of course he was going to lose.” We don’t have separate competition categories for people based on race. So if we’re not discriminating based on race, why are we discriminating based on sex? Why are we assuming that strong women who can beat male opponents are anomalies? Why do we continue to tell women that they’re confined by biology, that they can never do what men do, instead of thinking about supporting them by giving them resources and trainers and sponsorships? So what if the number of professional male fighters is greater than the number of female fighters? That has nothing to do with their strength, their ability, their drive to compete.”_ Azumane is leaning forward a little now, every word strong with conviction. _“Like I said, I believe Amanai-san is entirely capable of beating me - and quite possibly Ushijima as well - and there could be so many more like her who just need the training and support to show the world what they’re made of. Yachi-san could very easily give Nishinoya 'Lightning’ Yuu a hard run for his money. By assuming that a male versus female contest is unfair to the female fighter because she is inherently weaker, we not only disrespect her but take from her the chance to be confident in what she can do, to show the world what she can do.”_

“That was really well said,” Hitoka murmurs, and Kiyoko hums in agreement.

_“I see. I can’t presume to comment on the science of it, but I do see your point. And, speaking of equality for women in sports, quite a lot of the buzz came from your statement ‘No, this wasn’t what we wanted,’ referring to yourself as a feminist. Would you like to comment on that?”_

Azumane leans back in his chair again, looking a little quizzical, a little amused. _“I don’t think there’s anything to comment on. I’m a feminist, and I’ve always considered myself to be a feminist. Don’t you consider yourself to be one, Iwaizumi-san?”_

“Holy _shit_ ,” Kiyoko says, a hand stealing over her mouth to hide her broad grin.

It’s the first time Hitoka has ever seen Iwaizumi Hajime’s poise slip. His eyes go wide for a moment before he chuckles, looking self conscious. _“The network doesn’t allow its anchors to make politically charged statements, Azumane-san, so I can't answer that.”_

_“Saying you believe that both sexes are equal is politically charged?”_

Iwaizumi gives him a half-wry look. _“Unfortunately, it’s considered by many people to be so. One last question about your statement on Twitter, before we move on - a significant part of the surprise came from your very spirited defense of Yachi-san’s prowess, a defense that far surpasses anything we’ve heard you say in praise even about your close friend Sawamura-san. Can I ask why?”_

Hitoka sits up straighter, watching Azumane’s smile turn a little sheepish. _“Well, part of it was indignation at the way people had dismissed her. As a fighter small in stature fighting someone larger, it takes a lot of skill to know how to maintain your distance and how to close safely, because the hits you take are very likely to be a lot more damaging to you than the hits you deal. Yachi-san has that skill down to an absolute art; that kind of speed and footwork takes a very long time to perfect. I don’t think I know anyone in the industry who can quite match her level. She was also very good at choosing how and where to place her hits, and her stamina was amazing - she barely flagged even into the third round, though she must have been hurting badly from the hits she’d taken. If I’m being honest, I was a little upset at being forced to fight someone so much lighter than me without any warning, and I tried to pull my punches a little to give her space to breathe. But she caught on in like five seconds, and I was the one scrambling for space to breathe after that. She refused to allow me to give anything less than my best. That match gave me an immense amount of respect for her, for her courage, skill, and resolution, and I suppose my ‘spirited defense’ came not only from frustration that her skill seemed to be being dismissed out of hand, but also from a very real desire to show the world that this is a woman who is an absolute force to be reckoned with. I wanted to get the people who saw only her stature and her sex to give her the recognition she deserves.”_

“Holy fucking shit,” Hitoka says, burying her burning face in her hands. “Oh my _god._ ”

_“Right, I see. Well, you certainly live up to your reputation as the most sportsmanlike MMA fighter today, Azumane-san. When we come back, we’ll be talking to ACE about his upcoming matches and his chances for victory in the EFC men’s welterweight championship in December. Stay tuned!”_

The network music plays with a flourish, and Hitoka turns to Kiyoko, at a loss for words.

“Well,” Kiyoko says, her eyes sparkling with laughter, “he certainly hasn’t made any secret of how much he admires you. You really worked some magic on him, huh, Hitoka-chan?”

“Kiyoko, _please_ ,” Hitoka moans. Her cheeks are still bright red, she can feel it. “Oh god, so much for the rumours blowing over in a week - you need to say something to him, he can’t keep going around and saying these things about me, oh my _god_ -”

“He can and he absolutely will,” Kiyoko says firmly. “He’s speaking nothing but the truth, and you shouldn’t shy away from that.”

Hitoka leans in for a tight hug, and Kiyoko pats her back gently. “Thank you,” she mumbles into her shirt.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Kiyoko says. “Besides, there’s worse things that could happen than you being paired with Asahi. He’s not a bad looker, hm?”

Hitoka jerks out of her arms. “I’m going to ignore that,” she announces to the kitchen, much louder than necessary, and Kiyoko laughs.

“You do that, and find a good show to watch,” she says, going to get the bowl out of the microwave. “And don’t worry about Asahi hyping you up. I’m certainly not going to, he’s doing my job for me wonderfully.”

“You’re the worst,” Hitoka sighs, scowling at the TV as the interview shows up again. Stupid kind Azumane Asahi and his stupid handsome face and his stupid honest way of saying everything he finds admirable about her to the whole goddamn world.

Goddamn it, she was _this_ close to forgetting about him.

***

Asahi tucks his wallet back into his pocket as he steps out of the convenience store, tugging his mask back up and his cap lower down. It’s a quiet Tuesday night, a nip in the air announcing the approach of fall. He takes a second to look into the many bags he’s holding to make sure everything’s in place, then starts off at a brisk pace down the road, humming along softly to the song playing through his earphones.

The song is barely halfway through the first verse when there’s a sharp tug on the back of his shirt. He turns, startled, and looks right into Yachi Hitoka’s smile.

“Yachi-san! Um, hi -” He yanks his earphones out and scrambles to pause the song. “Hi, it’s nice to see you again!”

“You too,” she says, a little out of breath. She has a couple of cloth shopping bags in one hand, and she’s wearing a cap like him. “I was behind you in line at the convenience store - like, not right behind you, but a couple of people behind you, and I figured I should, um, take the chance to talk to you? I tried calling out, but I guess you couldn’t hear me -”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my music must have been too loud. Did you have to run to catch up with me?”

“A little,” she laughs, and it reminds him of little silver bells. “But it’s fine. Do you live around here?”

“Ah, yeah, just up that way.” He points up the road, past the bridge, to a distant collection of illuminated highrise apartments. “And you?”

She gestures in the other direction. “About a half an hour’s walk that way. I don’t usually come all the way here, but this store is the closest one that stocks the kind of ice cream I like, so . . .””

“Oh, okay.” He pulls his mask down to his chin, a self conscious mixture of anticipation and nerves setting butterflies loose in his stomach. “So, uh, what did you want to talk to me about?”

All the niggling little worries that have plagued him through the past few weeks are suddenly rushing back. He’d been much more outspoken to the media than he’s ever been before, and while he doesn’t regret what he’d said, maybe he’d taken more liberties with Yachi-san’s name than she’d been comfortable with? Maybe he should have toned down the praise a little? Maybe the rumours the tabloids had so gleefully picked up had annoyed or embarrassed her? Sure, Kiyoko hadn’t said anything about any of that, but maybe Yachi just hadn’t wanted to make her stance formal by sending a message through her manager. She hadn’t commented on anything he’d said apart from expressing gratitude for his support - what if the whole thing had pissed her off, what if she thought it had been overkill, what if -

“I saw your interview on TV a couple of days ago, and I wanted to say thank you,” she says, and her smile is shy as she tucks her hair behind one ear. “In person. Hearing what you said, hearing how you stood up for me, it meant more than I can tell you. You’re a famous fighter, Azumane-san, even though your career has only been a year long, and - and a good person, and knowing that you, um, respect me, that you really saw what I’m capable of - it made me really happy. I know I told you I didn’t regret agreeing to the match, and I still don’t, but I felt terrible afterwards because it was like you said, I’d been thrown into a situation where it was just a question of how long I’d last. I don’t think any fighter with any kind of pride would be happy about that. You saw that, and cared enough to take a stand about the kinds of matches you’d agree to in the future, which made other people follow your lead. And you took a very strong stand about how female fighters are viewed in general, which I think is really admirable, and - well, you didn’t have to. So thank you. I’m really, really grateful for what you did.”

She bows slightly, and Asahi nearly drops his bags with how quickly he waves for her to stand straight, his cheeks burning.  
  
“Please don’t, Yachi-san, I really didn’t do anything extraordinary. I’ve been pretty cowardly about dealing with the media till now, and all I did was rectify that and tell people what I think. And I don’t know how anyone could watch you fight and fail to see what you’re capable of.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she laughs, “and it’s exactly what I was talking about. And whether what you did was extraordinary to you or not, it meant a lot to me, so please accept my gratitude.”

“I - well - you’re welcome, then,” he manages to say. She smiles, her eyes soft and friendly in the streetlights, and he finds himself scrambling to find something else to talk about, anything to keep the conversation going. “Um, so - so are you entering the championship in November?”

“Oh, I am! I just sent in the application yesterday. What about you? I heard on the show that you’re entering the EFC championship, is that right?”

The conversation starts slowly but picks up pace, and soon they’re talking about everything, about matches they’re going to fight, matches they want to fight, who they think are the best fighters in the industry and who they think are the most underrated - 

“Well, you, obviously -”

“Azumane-san, please!”

“All right, all right,” he laughs. “Yamaguchi-kun is definitely someone to watch out for, I think -”

\- how hectic training schedules are, how often they manage to go home to see family, the pressure of entering every championship that comes along, how difficult it is to make friends in an industry where your training buddy today turns out to be your opponent tomorrow. Yachi is so easy to talk to, earnest and insightful when the conversation demands it and gently teasing when it doesn’t. She’s courteous, and kind, and when Asahi is talking she makes it seem like she’s genuinely interested in what he has to say. The occasional silences that fall between them when they run out of things to say feel almost comfortable, and never last long. 

And her hair is gleaming pale gold in the dim light on the street, and her nose scrunches up a little when a loud car drives by and briefly drowns out their voices, and when they’re talking about something serious she tends to bite her lower lip, and god, she’s so unaware of her own quiet charm that it nearly makes Asahi go weak at the knees.

 _I want more of this_ , he realizes as she tells him about the tortoiseshell kitten she’d had as a kid. _I want to keep talking to her, I want us to be more than just acquaintances. I want to be - whatever she’ll let me be to her._

But this is only the second conversation they’ve ever had, and the tabloids just need one picture of the two of them together to make their lives hell, and maybe she’s just being kind because that’s how she is, maybe she’s perfectly fine with him as just an acquaintance. So should he say something? Would that ruin everything right at the start? Suga and Daichi would both tell him to go for it, he knows, they’d say that he and Yachi are both adults and can move past a rejected romantic advance to a friendship, and they’d be right, but - 

“Oh, I hadn’t realized the time!” The train of anxious thought is cut off as she looks at her watch. “I’ve kept you here so long, I’m so sorry -”

“Don’t worry about it, it was a pleasure,” he tells her. “I guess we should be heading home, though.”

“Yeah, I have a long day tomorrow,” she grins, bending to pick up her bags. “New training regime, you know how it is. Thank you so much, Azumane-san, it was really great to talk to you. I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“Me too,” he says, thinking that it’s now or never, his heart fluttering in his throat. “It was great talking to you too. Um, Yachi-san -”

“Yes?”

“Could I - could I walk you home?”

She looks surprised before she tilts her head a little, half-amused, half-considering. “Do you think I need someone to walk me home?”

“You definitely don’t,” he smiles, a little ruefully, and looks down at his feet. “But - I’d like to. If you don’t mind.”

“Why?”

She sounds curious, now. He scuffs one foot against the pavement, not quite able to meet her eyes. “Because I really like talking to you, and I’m, um, I’m kind of reluctant to say goodbye so soon.”

“We’ve been standing here for more than forty five minutes, Azumane-san,” she says, and she’s smiling when he looks up. “That wasn’t enough?”

He offers her a small shrug and a smile in return. “It felt like five,” he says softly. 

Faint pink blooms uncertainly across her cheekbones, and it’s her turn to look away. Asahi’s heart clenches a little.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says gently. “It’s fine, Yachi-san, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Hey,” she says, reaching out to stop him. “Hey, I didn’t say no, I was just - kind of surprised. I - yeah, sure, you can walk me home.”

“Yeah?” he grins, and she pats his arm lightly, cheeks still pink.

“Yeah,” she says, starting to walk in the direction of her house. “But only if you let me carry some of your bags. I’ll feel so guilty if you have to walk all the way to my place and back carrying all that, it looks really heavy.”

Asahi hurries to fall into step with her. “But it’s really not, I swear -”

“It’s my one condition, Azumane-san!”

“I have a condition too, then.”

Soft silver bells ring out in the crisp night. “A condition to obey my condition?”

“Exactly. Could you just call me Azumane? Or Asahi, if you like. Azumane-san always sounds too formal, I can never get used to it.”

Yachi shakes her head at him, smiling, and takes one of his bags. “Fine, Asahi-san,” she says. “And you can stick with Yachi.”

“How about Yacchan?”

“ . . . I guess I can live with Yacchan.”

He pumps his fist like a kid at Christmas, and she laughs at him, and if their hands brush once or twice as they walk together, both of them smile and neither of them mention it. He leaves Yachi at her door after a long walk that didn’t last long enough, after she gives him her number and the sweetest, shyest smile he’s ever seen. And he walks home with the warmth of meeting her glowing in his chest, under stars that seem to twinkle brighter and prettier than they did yesterday, and thinks maybe - just maybe - he might owe something to dumb organisers of exhibition matches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the duality of the man, an activist on tv and a blushing mess when he asks to walk his crush home, can u believe  
> Thank you for reading!!! I put my all into this, I love these two so much and did my best to write them a good story, and I'd love to know what you thought! Constructive criticism is always very welcome :) You can find me [here](https://yaelathewordsmith.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr and [here](https://twitter.com/writer_yaela) on Twitter just to chat or for commissions info!
> 
> Edit: THERE IS NOW MORE ART!!!!!! TONO HAS DONE THE LOVELIEST ART I COULD HOPE FOR AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH  
> Please click [here](https://main-bird.tumblr.com/post/636927938767585280/do-you-want-to-read-a-story-with-asahi-and-yachi) to view it on Tumblr and [here](https://twitter.com/mainbird_art/status/1336252928311570434?s=20) and [here](https://twitter.com/mainbird_art/status/1336254163005661184?s=20) to view it on Twitter! There's AsaYachi and Daichi and Kiyoko and Iwaizumi and Yams and Noya and Saeko and oh god I'm still vibrating with happiness please do check out her work and give her some love!!
> 
> Edit 2: this is very very belated but Daichi and Saeko's fighter names came from [this very cute fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227341) by Jade! I realized so late, they just sank into my unconsciousness and I never realized where they came from. Ty to Jade for being such a good sport about the unintentional plagiarism ^.^


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